Of Broken Promises and the Taste of Freedom
by crazy-anonymous
Summary: Vaguely, Vietnam wondered if this was what freedom tasted like. If perhaps, the hot waves that crashed through her body and set her skin on fire was what it was like to know that you are truly free. America/Vietnam


She was breaking down. She knew she wasn't supposed to, but she couldn't help it as she looked down at the people whose bodies were torn to bits, some missing arms and legs, others wide-eyed with their faces and stomachs cleaved in two, their lifeless eyes staring up at her and their mouths hanging open exposing blood-stained and broken teeth as if their souls had been ripped clear from the bowels of their sliced open gut.

Vietnam's lip quivered and the lump in her throat seemed to strangle her as she held back the sobs that threatened to break free from her firmly sealed lips. Hot tears burned their way down her dirt and grime-laden cheeks leaving a wet trail down her face and off her pointed chin. Slowly she turned her head, her eyes darting around the dimly lit cave taking in all the other bodies that littered the ground, their blood smeared on the walls and dirt floor.

That's when she let it slip. A sob broke itself from her throat and bounced off the dirt walls and reverberated through the elaborately crafted tunnels. Clamping her palm to her mouth and over her nose, she quickly squeezed her eyes shut trying to dispel the bloodied images that flashed through her mind. Her shoulders shook as she unsuccessfully tried to swallow the sobs that continued to force their way out. The air was fraught and weighed with death and the scent of heavy blood that had been spilled not so long ago.

These were her people, and she could almost feel them as cuts against her skin, breaking upon her body as a needle would pierce flesh. Another heart-rending sob ripped itself from her throat, and in the distance of the tunnels she could hear the faint beating of footsteps against the dirt ground move nearer.

"'Nam?" a questioning voice came from a uniformed blonde while stepping out of one of the many pathways leading into the small bloodied room. His blue eyes passed over her dirtied figure and ripped clothes to her shaking shoulders and then around the room, swiftly trailing over the torn bodies as to not see too much. "_Shit_," Alfred muttered under his breath as he hurried to her side, sweeping her into his arms and twisting her around so all she could see was the uniform fitted across his lean frame.

Alfred rocked her to and fro and lightly shushed her hoping to ease her pain and the shudders that claimed her body. The blonde nation craned his neck, searching the room for an un-bloodied spot absent of any bodies, and steadily, he backed himself to the wall while still holding a crying Vietnam in his arms. Slowly sliding down to the dirt floor, Alfred gently pulled Vietnam into his lap and wrapped her in his arms holding her flush against him. Her entire frame continued to shake with sobs that racked her body and claimed her throat with deep gasps of air. The young American rubbed her back from her shoulder blades, down and back up while pressing light kisses to the top of her head in what he hoped was a comforting expression. Slowly he felt her body ease, her muscles release, and her ragged sobs were more like soft, shuddering intakes of air now.

Her hands traveled from where they firmly held to his uniform up to his dirt-stained face and blood-shot, red eyes, yet for all the dirt, grime and blood, all she could see was beauty in his worn and rugged face. He bore the marks of freedom and the effort for hers by the black and blue bruises that covered his strong body, and the clear blue eyes marred with exhaustion and lined by dark purple wear.

From her cut lips escaped his name, softly whispered over and over from her torn throat as she brought her face to his, just barely ghosting over his lips, too afraid to let the fire of his being consume her in total, too afraid to give into her passion, too afraid to finally let go.

Alfred made no effort to move, and let the warmth of her breath wash over his face as her fingers traced over each of his features until tangling into his unwashed hair. Slowly she moved to close what little gap there was between them, and pressed her cracking lips against his own, her eyes fluttering shut as she whispered his name once more against his lips. He let his hands press her even closer to him, and moved to cup her face, his rough and calloused thumb rubbing against her wet and bloodied cheeks as he too, closed his eyes. Vaguely, Vietnam wondered if this was what freedom tasted like. If perhaps, the hot waves that crashed through her body and set her skin on fire, was what it was like to know that you are truly free.

Her lips tingled against his own, and slightly, she could taste the metallic iron along with the dirt that covered so much of their bodies. His rough hands found their way to her matted, mess of hair and took to threading his fingers through the thin strands. The growing desperation and urgency in his kisses brought the lump back to her throat and the moisture in her eyes as she realized that as much as she needed this, the feeling of security, of importance and love, he needed it all the same, and this realization affirmed itself with every deepening, needy kiss he crashed upon her lips.

Her hands lightly trailed back to his face but were surprised when her fingers rubbed against a warm wetness that hadn't been there before. Quickly, he caught her shoulders between his leather hands and pulled her away from him, his face snapping to the side and slightly down as his blonde locks cascaded over his face, covering his swollen-red eyes in an attempt to hide the steady stream of tears that stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

"'Nam, I-" he began but was stopped as one slender finger pushed against his lips. Her finger removed itself as her hands moved to hold the sides of his face and turned him towards her, bringing his face within inches of hers and into full view. Her black pools scanned his puffy sky-blues that glistened with uncertainty and anguish. And now it was her turn to shush him as his body trembled ever so slightly trying to control the sobs that threatened to overcome his barely in-check composure.

Moments passed as they held to each almost as if the other were their lifeline in this Hell of gun-blast, dirt and blood. That's when Vietnam spoke out, breaking the heavy silence. "America," she murmured quietly, burying her face into the thick fabric of his uniform and into his chest. "Promise…promise you won't leave me."

The words that rolled off her tongue rendered him speechless as he grappled for words. His face plastered itself with pain, sorrow and guilt as the feelings of all his people bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin. Many of his people so avidly opposed the war; they simply hadn't the mind for it. But what did _he_ want? He, not as the accumulation of his people's thoughts and feelings, but as the man instilled with the virtues of his forefathers and their ideals that so ardently supported freedom, what did _he_ want?

Freedom for all.

And if that meant he personally would be torn and beaten black and blue, he didn't think he would mind. For him, freedom was more than simple words, phrases or expressions – it was everything to be desired, and nothing less than the world itself. _He_ wanted Vietnam to be free.

"I promise 'Nam, I won't leave you." He whispered into her black tufts of tangled hair and placed another light kiss to the top of her head while still cradling her in his arms. He felt her body relax into his own, and shortly thereafter her breathing had turned into a rhythmic hum as she eased into a faint slumber.

It would be one of many painful, broken promises that he would never be able to rid himself of. For the years to come, the guilt would lay upon his shoulders and ghost over his lips, just like the day he held her in his arms and made sweet promises of nothing.


End file.
